


Stitches or the Devouring Mouth

by theappleppielifestyle



Series: Falling 'Verse [4]
Category: The Avengers
Genre: M/M, Sex, Smut, gay seeeeeex, mind-reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 15:43:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theappleppielifestyle/pseuds/theappleppielifestyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Steve thinks Tony does it on purpose, walking like that and eating like that and holding a goddamn wrench like that. Tony gets under his skin, in his head and he refuses to get out. Which is ironic, because now Tony has that whole 'mind-reading' thing for at least another hour and everyone is in Tony's head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stitches or the Devouring Mouth

Tony is distracting. 

Honestly, Steve thinks it's going to get lethal. Two days ago when he had been sparring with Natasha, Tony had walked past with no shirt on and Steve had nearly impaled Clint.

He dreams about it: Tony's hands and fingers and tongue.

Tony panting underneath him, on top of him, around him, inside him. 

Tony as the air he breathes. 

Tony with sweat running down his spine. Tony making that moan that he had made last night when Steve had done that particular flick-and-twist motion with his wrist.

Tony with blown pupils, his hands absolutely everywhere.

Steve notices things that he doesn't with everyone else: how his hipbones are angled when he reaches for coffee, how he bites his bottom lip and sucks it slightly into his mouth, the tilt of his neck, the line of his jaw- everything about Tony drives him fucking insane. 

He's spent long minutes (when Tony's in the workshop so he doesn't notice) staring at things that usually wouldn't turn him on but somehow do. Like the shape of his fingers, or how he pushes his hair out of his face, or how he moves his head back when he drinks.

Sometimes Steve thinks Tony does it on purpose, walking like that and eating like that and holding a goddamn wrench like that. Tony gets under his skin, in his head and he refuses to get out. 

Which is ironic, because now Tony has that whole 'mind-reading' thing for at least another hour and everyone is in Tony's head.  
-

Tony has no idea how the fuck Professor Xavier handles this shit.

For the first few minutes it had been actually quite entertaining, but after a few hours it still hadn't worn off, and Tony had found out a few things that he had really rather not liked to know about Hawkeye.

In short: mind-reading is a huge pain the ass.

Tony still found it hilarious that when everyone had found out that what Tony had been injected with was actually telepathy, they had all started thinking pretty much the same thing:

_Don't think about sex. Don't think about sex. Don'tthinkaboutsex. Don'tthi- good lord her boobs are amazing._

"It'll wear off in a day or two," Hank says finally, after rigorous testing and Tony telling everyone to please, please stop thinking because it was mentally scarring him.

"Great," Tony replies. "I'll spend them locked in the workshop. It'll be just like normal. My GOD, Clint, yes, Natasha has great boobs, but could you please concentrate on something else for a second?"

-

"Numbers, nightmares or general insomnia?" 

Tony glances at Steve over his coffee cup. "Just insomnia. The mind-reading shit has mostly worn off, thank fucking god."

"Mostly?" Steve repeats, because basically everyone had been avoiding Tony since it had started.

Including Steve.

Shut up.

Tony arches an eyebrow. "Apart from a few mumblings, not a peep for the last hour. It's just me in here. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get back to the workshop."

He swallows the last of the coffee and reaches for the screwdriver that he had put down before, but Steve takes it before Tony can get it.

"Tony," Steve says, "How long have you been awake?"

Tony pauses. "Uh. Three days, at least. Give me back my screwdriver."

He makes a grab for it, but Steve pulls it out of his reach.

"You should sleep."

"You should stop being so Capitan-y. Give me my screwdriver."

Tony grabs for it again, but this time Steve raises it high over his head.

Tony stares. "Seriously?"

Steve blinks innocently at him. "Go to sleep."

"No!"

"Then you're not getting your screwdriver back." 

Tony makes a face.

He steps back, starting to turn away.

Then he turns back and lunges for the screwdriver. 

Steve veers away, still keeping the screwdriver at a safe distance, and Tony follows.

"You have got to be _kidding_ me, Rogers- oh, come on! Just give it back!"

Steve is torn between laughing and acting stern. "It's not my fault you're so short."

Tony jumps- he actually jumps for the screwdriver- and Steve starts to laugh, because he looks like an idiot, and he's so in love with him at that moment that he can't stop grinning if he tried.

Tony suddenly stops jumping, eyes wide.

Steve's smile falters. He lowers the screwdriver, but Tony doesn't move to get it.

Tony's mouth works furiously, trying to make a coherent sentence, and finally he chokes out: "Mind-reading's a bitch, huh?"

Steve goes red. "You, uh, heard that?"

Tony nods.

Steve scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "It's not like I hadn't said that bef-"

"I love you," Tony cuts him off, and okay, neither of them were expecting that because even though _Steve_ had said it before, that doesn't mean _Tony_ has.

Steve's mouth is still in mid-word, but there's no sound coming out. 

Tony's hand whips out and takes the screwdriver, and Steve can only half understand what he's saying, but he thinks it's sort of in the vicinity of:

"Okay, yep, glad that's sorted, I'm going to go and make a big machine actually work now, because it wasn't working before, see you, Steve-"

"Shut up, you idiot," Steve says wearily, turning him around by his shoulder, walking him into a wall and kissing him sloppily.

After a second of surprise, Tony's hands come to rest on Steve's hips. They stay there for second while they kiss, before straying down towards Steve's belt. 

Steve sucks in a breath and pulls away slightly, his hands in Tony's hair.

"Sorry, automatic," Tony mutters in his babbling voice. "Plus I just told you I love you, so I'd expect you to at least put out-"

Steve lowers one hand, taking extra care to keep eye contact while he does, and cups Tony through his pants.

"You know I was just joking about putting out-" Tony chokes, his eyes wide again, and Steve silences him with a kiss (again, and my god he's been doing this a lot because Tony won't stop talking lately).

He licks Tony's mouth open, runs his tongue slowly over Tony's swollen bottom lip, feeling him shudder. 

"I want you," Steve says quietly, his face heating, never taking his eyes from Tony's.

For a second, Tony just stands there stupidly, and Steve thinks _Shit, did I come on too strong?_

To which the answer that his brain provided him with was: _You have him up against a wall and are holding his dick through his jeans. Take a good guess if you're coming on too strong._

But then Tony says "Okay," sounding nothing like a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist. 

"Uh," Steve says. "Okay. So, um, bedroom?"

Tony blinks, before his brain actually absorbs that no, this is not a dream and yes, Steve is in front of him with his hand pushed up against his half-hard dick and yes, Steve had just asked him if they could have sex.

"Bedroom," Tony agrees, his brain going annoyingly slow.

The walk to Tony's bedroom is almost awkward, and Tony discreetly pinches himself on the inside of his elbow, just to make sure he at least won't wake up any time soon.

Then Steve is locking the door with surprisingly not-trembling hands, and then those hands are curling over the hem of his Tony's shirt, pulling it up and over his head and tossing it into the corner. He does the same to his own shirt. 

Tony's brain is currently on autopilot, but he knows enough to take off his jeans when Steve does, and throw them on top of their shirts.

Tony struggles to breathe for a moment. He is here, he's not dreaming, Steve is almost naked except for his briefs and he's tented and looking at him with those questioning eyes that stir things up inside him.

Steve kisses him, unsure, his fingers trailing across the soft blue light in the centre of Tony's chest and then down his hips.

Slightly jokingly, just to ease the tension, because god-damn this was way too serious, Steve says: "Aren't you supposed to be the one reassuring me? I'm the virgin in this scenario."

Which is apparently the wrong thing to say, because Tony slaps a hand to his head and says, "Shit. _Shit._ You _are_ a virgin. I forgot."

Steve raises his eyebrows and Tony says, "Well, you're not exactly _virginal,_ Steve!"

Slipping a hand into Tony's boxers, Steve replies, "I have no idea what would possibly make you think that."

Tony huffs out a laugh, but it quickly dissolves into a moan as Steve thumbs the head of his cock. He closes his eyes and lets Steve stroke him, revelling in the feeling, rolling his hips in slow motions. 

The mind-reading is all but gone now, Tony's sure of it- he can't hear anything over the yell of his own thoughts.

He opens his eyes to find Steve watching his face, and it's strangely intimate the way Steve blushes when he catches him looking.

Feeling slightly less like a fumbling idiot, Tony pulls Steve towards the bed, smiling fondly when he gets on without hesitation. He gets on after him and straddles him rocking his hips twice against Steve's, loving the small gasps that Steve makes. 

"I love it when you blush," Tony mumbles, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses along Steve's collarbone where the blush stops, then down to his nipple, pausing there for a second when Steve's breathing hitches. 

He sucks at it for a second, and when he bites it softly, Steve outright keens. Tony smiles against his chest and moves down lower, brushing his lips against his navel. 

When he reaches his briefs, he stops, his tongue pressing at the skin less than an inch away from them. 

Steve shivers beneath him, almost aching from how hard he is, how warm Tony's mouth is on his skin, how much he _wants._ They had done handjobs before, but not-

Tony pulls his briefs down, and Steve's dick bobs up against his stomach. Tony hopes to high heaven that he can actually still do this, and swallows Steve down to the base.

"Oh- Jesus fu- _Tony."_ Steve stops himself from bolting off the bed, but only barely. His fingers dig into the sheets, fighting the urge to thrust into Tony's mouth, because _christ_ Tony's mouth is hot and tight around him and it feels like every nerve ending he has is on fire.

Tony hums low in the back of his throat, enjoying the choked noises that Steve is making, the trembling of his thighs, how he keeps saying Tony's name like that. 

He sucks hard, almost hard enough to hurt, and Steve keeps making these startled half-yells when he does. 

He reaches upwards to roll Steve's balls in his hand, and Steve makes a sound like he's dying, which is always a sign that he's close.

Tony circles his tongue around the head and Steve's next breath is almost a sob.

When Tony pulls off entirely, Steve whines and cants his hips upwards helplessly.

"Lube," Tony croaks, and a part of him wants to not even have sex, instead sit there and jerk himself off to that noise that Steve had just made. 

"L-Lube," Steve agrees breathlessly, his thighs still trembling.

Tony leans sideways off the bed and fumbles inside a drawer for a few seconds. Steve waits until Tony comes back up with a half-used bottle before using his legs to flip them over and pin a surprised and now even more turned on Tony to the bed.

They kiss, and it's just a collision of tongues and teeth.

Steve wants this moment to last forever: Tony laid out in front of him, his hair messed up and his mouth pink and swollen, with that grin that he does when he's trying to pretend he's not nervous. 

"Tony-" Steve says. "I-" he swallows.

"Want you to fuck me. I want you inside me." 

Tony shudders, letting those words hit him and go straight to his dick.

Steve takes the lube from Tony's hand, and squeezes some onto his own. He keeps his eyes locked on Tony's as he rubs a slow, circular motion around his hole and pushes a finger into himself.

Tony's mouth falls open, watching Steve finger-fuck himself, and after a few seconds he can't take it and surges upwards to kiss him like a drowning man.

Steve pants harshly into Tony's mouth, twisting his fingers and trying to hit the spot inside of him that he's heard about.

Tony reaches down. "Fuck, Steve, let me-" 

He rubs some lube between his fingers, warming them up before Steve withdraws his finger and Tony pushes his own in.

"Two-" Steve bites down hard on his lip. "Two fingers, god, Tony, _please."_

Tony nods jerkily and adds another finger, crooking them, trying to find the small cluster of nerves-

Steve arches up off the bed. "Ohmy _fuckinggodTony-"_

Tony uses three fingers to hit it again, and again, and Steve is writhing now, on his knees, fucking himself on Tony's fingers and Tony wonders if he can come just from that.

"Tony," Steve moans. "Please, Tony, fuck me- oh, _God."_

Tony finds Steve's prostate one more time before pulling his fingers out and moving forward on his knees.

"I-" Steve is a mess. "Lie down?"

Tony half falls down onto his back, half pushed by Steve, and Steve looks right at him as Tony positions himself.

This is what scares him. The way that Steve doesn't glance away, the way he's blushing and looking at him with such overwhelming sincerity that Tony feels like it's too much. 

Steve doesn't look away until he lowers himself down onto Tony's cock, when his head rolls back and he moans loudly and obscenely.

Tony waits for Steve to adjust to the feeling of having someone inside him, and slowly- tauntingly slowly- Steve lowers himself so he's resting on Tony's hips. He rocks forwards.

Tony feels like he's breaking apart. 

It hasn't been like this, it's never been like this, sex is just something to shut up the numbers and feel good, it's never like this, it's never jarring, it's never felt like he was going to dissolve with Steve debauched and moaning his name as he rides him.

Tony can't speak. He can barely do anything other than grip at Steve's hips, giving himself over completely.

They're both shaking, both from the effort of not coming and just the emotion of it all: Tony hears someone say 'I love you' but he's not sure if it's the last of the mind-reading shit or his own voice saying it, but he chokes it out all the same, just as his orgasm rips through him like a supernova exploding.

 

-

Steve wakes up in the morning when Tony's still asleep. For a second, he just grins to himself.

"Love you."

"I'm awake, idiot," Tony mumbles into his pillow, and Steve jumps.

"Sorry, I thought-"

"I love you, too," Tony says, and shifts closer. "It's not even afternoon yet. Go back to sleep."

Steve grins again and shucks one arm underneath his shoulders, pulling him into his chest. 

Everyone thinks they have Tony Stark sussed out, but no-one gets to see Tony like Steve does: 

The first thing in the morning, or when he really lets himself laugh, or when he lets his guard down, or how his voice hitches on 'I love you.'

**Author's Note:**

> “Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, _you build up a whole suit of armor_ , so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore." -Neil Gaiman.


End file.
